


"With the lights off, it's less dangerous"

by MoxFirefly



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: AU of sorts?, M/M, Sexual Content, wybrose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 01:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5437784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoxFirefly/pseuds/MoxFirefly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They forgot the key part that he's a scumbag. He's always been a scumbag and will always be a scumbag. Just cause he played hero for a while didn't mean that pulse for destruction wasn't beating and vibrating to a song he wasn't sure he knew, or maybe he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"With the lights off, it's less dangerous"

**Author's Note:**

> I have always, always, wanted Dean and Bray to be a tag team so obviously this is an idea I've had for quite some time and needed to tackle. Not particularly set in any established time frame, maybe around their feud at most.

Dean relishes it, he takes a second to swim in the despair of all of them.

They forgot the key part that he's a scumbag. He's always been a scumbag and will always be a scumbag. Just cause he played hero for a while didn't mean that pulse for destruction wasn't beating and vibrating to a song he wasn't sure he knew, or maybe he did.

 _Time_  
is  
on  
my  
**side**.

So, the sick satisfaction that courses through his body as he lifts the chair and brings it down on Seth Rollins, is a work of art.

When his blue eyes land on Bray Wyatt, who sits against the corner of the ring post, and that twisted grin of his is ear to ear, he swears he hears someone gasp in the crowd.

How pathetic of them to think that he would bury the hatchet with the two toned sell out just because he was getting mauled by the devil over there. They must've sworn he was just going to beat Bray as per usual. But the moment he pushed the other man and wailed on Seth, the silence was pin drop worthy. Seth's in a heap now, groaning and trying to block the next hit but Dean makes sure to let the chair drop on him. He walks over his former brother and goes over to the corner Bray is watching the show from. He drops down to his knees and out stretches his arms.

And the screaming is deafening.  
A beautiful orchestra of anguish and betrayal.  
Bray, the conductor, stands for the audience and admires his favorite instrument, Dean. 

It's been so long since Dean felt so _filthy_ and in _love_.  
_________

Next week they show up side by side.

Anarchy and Chaos.

Dean walks down the ramp, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, leather jacket hoodie on him as per usual but the black cotton tank top is a message for the world. It's cryptic words painted in grey for all, **DON'T STRAY**. The look of horror on some is priceless when Bray sheds his Hawaiian shirt to reveal the black muscle shirt with the initials _D.A_ on them. It's a silent promise to each other, a unification of their kindred spirits.

To lay down death on all those they cross.

It's a match for Bray, some poor jobber trying to make it but of course he gets squashed. Dean is leaning against one of the commentators tables, arms crossed and a twisted admiration in his blue orbs whenever Bray just simply destroys the guy. Not many notice, but he has to bite the inside of his mouth, he needs to feel skin break and his tongue dab against the wounded flesh. It keeps him at bay, it keeps the storm in a calmed state. 

Bray eventually wins, puts the poor kid out of his misery with his finisher and he rolls out to where Dean is standing. He grins and Dean smirks, his twitchy body can't contain the laughter and Bray nudges his head against the dirty blonds chest in silent affection. And just like that they go back up the ramp, the crowd's furious, they demanded an explanation and were being denied. But of course, it's all part of a bigger plan.

Let them stew in their anguish.

Let them fucking rot.  
__________

Their first tag match goes surprisingly well. 

They fall into a familiar groove and work well when doing team moves. Dean sets out to prove to Bray, prove what? Well he isn't sure, but when hits Jimmy with a clothesline that sends the poor boy tumbling out of the ring, he looks towards the brunette. Dean finds some comfort in Bray's approval of his tactics, he's contained the storm that is the blond in a way. 

This time Dean is the one to pick up the victory. Slamming into Jey with his elbow and rolling him into a pin. He's out of there, Bray pulling him by the neck and laughing, dotting on him for doing such a good job, and the sickest part? He can hear some people actually rooting.

Once passed the curtain, things take a different turn. Because Dean almost moans out at how Bray is staring into his god damn putrid soul, he swears he's dizzy when Bray grabs him by the belt and drags him off. There destination seems to be some supply closet, and its cramped but acceptable for the time being. Dean is pushed down to his knees, fingers pressing hard into his face as Bray hums.

"You've been so good." Bray almost coos, Dean's blue eyes are bright and eager. His hands are running up and down Bray's thighs and if he were an actual dog, he'd be salivating by now. "Now, celebrate me. Worship me" And Dean wastes no time in pushing the brunette's pants as far as he needs to, his mouth wraps around the others cock and he's gone. Lulled by the way Bray runs his fingers over his scalp and pushes his head forward to make him choke.

His mouth is eager, tongue lapping and head bobbing and his moaning around the others cock. "Show me Im your everything, Dean." Bray's voice sounds rougher, he swallows a grunt when Dean tries to take him in further all on his own.

When he looks down and sees bright blue staring up at him, it's his undoing.

He pulls out, makes sure he coats Dean's pretty swollen lips and his neck.

Marking him.

 _Mine mine mine._  
__________

It gets progressively worse.

Dean's lost himself in all of it. Destruction looks good on him, hands bloody and grin ear to ear. There's no reason to play antihero anymore, to cater to these people who don't listen.

They don't see what he sees.  
They don't hear what Bray speaks.

The fog in the dimly lit room floats around him, dancing around his face. The buzzard logo on his muscle shirt seems bloody red in the darkness of the room, his smile is a sinister reminder of who he is behind those boyish good looks. Bray's back and forth lifts and sways the smoke, his words are just like that. 

"Because they are blind!" Bray's voice is a rasp that runs over Dean's skin but leaves a chill to the listeners. "But he isn't blind anymore! He's wide awake and walking upright." Bray reaches back, hand gripping Dean's arm. "This hound's found a new home now, haven't you?" Bray turns his gaze to Dean, eyes filled with so much adoration at his pet. The blond gives a slow nod, tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip. "Im free now. Free to be exactly who I've always been. Im no hero, I've always been a scumbag but I got caught up in being pushed around by who I thought were my friends. That craps over with!" Dean spat bitterly, jittery from the adrenaline due to speaking the truth. 

Bray laughs, ruffling the blond's hair before looking back. Another swirl of smoke dancing around him. "I think it's time we show everybody the new Dean Ambrose, no…The real Dean Ambrose." Bray's smile is all squinty eyed, that dark laugh rumbling up in his chest as he looks up. Dean comes closer, blue eyes crazed and grinning. He says one thing only, and it leaves every one stunned with silence.

" **Run**."


End file.
